


A good deed

by alightinthedawn



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alright Bloodhound caught a nasty cough, Bloodhound - Freeform, Bloodhound x Mirage, Bloodhound/Mirage - Freeform, Elliott Witt, I have litteraly zero ideas how to tag this, Is it fluff?, Is it somewhat smut?, It is slow burn baby!, Mirage - Freeform, Mirage x Bloodhound, Mirage/Bloodhound - Freeform, Other, Slow Burn, luckly mirage knows how 2 help, miragehound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 16:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18102203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alightinthedawn/pseuds/alightinthedawn
Summary: After Bloodhound is exposed to the new gas mix of Caustic they‘ve been coughing. Luckly no one noticed. Except one attentive trickster.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Apex Legends! I would love to play it one day. (I wish I had decent internet connection, but I literally have to carry my PS4 to my parents place, which is a 2h40m train ride away... that’s why I write again. And also because I have a diploma thesis to write lol).

 

Mirage had enough. It’s been several days after Hound had been taken down by Caustics new toxic gas mix and they were still coughing. Not that he had been keeping an eye on Bloodhound- nope not at all- but even with their mask covering most of the short coughing fits, he had noticed it.

Bloodhounds performance in the game was still as deadly and fearsome as ever, but when they had shot him K.O. it took them a few bullets more than usual, shoulders shaking from another coughing fit.Before Mirage could dwell on that too long, a sharp knife between his ribs sent him to the infirmary, waking up all patched up and alive. He grabbed the nearest monitor immediately, concern rummaging in his stomach.

Bloodhound still managed to win the game, nevertheless. Mirage let himself drop back on the bed. He had to do something about it.

 

Bloodhound was content. Allfather was on their side this day, helping them win. Their team was being interviewed and praised, something well- earned, but unnecessary nevertheless. Each win was just another step closer to the halls of Allfather, and until then, they had to proof themselves worthy over and over again. The old gods only notice the ones worthy of notice. There was no time on dwelling on past victories. They managed to slip away from the reporters into an empty hallway when another coughing fit overwhelmed them. A week has passed since it had started. Caustics new mixture was probably coming from the depths of Helheim, and that’s why it was making them sick. Even though Caustic had thrown it all away, saying that it wasn’t „effective enough“, it was a pain in the ass for them and their chest slowly started to hurt from all the coughing, leaving a faint, throbbing burn in their lungs.

„Ha, got‘cha“

They were startled by Mirages voice, his boots coming into their field of view, but they managed to cover it as another cough.

Not that it was better though- displays of weakness would get them killed as fast as a bullet. Bloodhound looked at Mirage, knowing that the stare would upset him even though he couldn’t see their face, and behold, Mirages cocky posture crumbled, weight shifting nervously from one feet to the other in just a few heartbeats.

„And what exactly do you think you got, Elliott?“ By Allfather, they loved to say his name out loud. Such a pleasant sound.

„I... you... well, uh, you- coughing“

Bloodhound squinted their eyes (not that anyone could see) and thought hard. They could deny the coughing fit or lie about it- or even better, just ignore Elliott and walk away. No one would believe him anyway. And so, they turned around to walk in the opposite direction, as Elliott cried a „Woah wait!“ and his hand grabbed their sleeve.

Everything stopped for a second.

 

No one just touches Bloodhound.

 

With dread Mirage watched Bloodhound slowly turn around to face him. Their voice was low and rumbling, almost like a growl.

„Hands off“

He immediately threw his hands up in the air, head ducking submissively, nervous laughter escaping his lips.

„I‘m sorry! I’m very sorry! I didn’t want to touch you! Well I mean yes cause I had to stop you from leaving and you didn’t want to listen what I had to say but I noticed even if you thought no one would notice and I want to help you-“

Bloodhound just crossed their arms and crooked their head to the side, almost like the raven (or one of them?) who accompanied them occasionally, clearly asking what this was about. Mirage managed to take a breath and to stop his rambling.

„I know that you‘ve been coughing since Caustic got you last week.“

„Do you?“

He couldn’t tell if the question was rhetoric or not, but he was sure. Like, 60% sure.

„Yes? I mean the mask hides it pretty good but no one else displays symptoms like you do.“

 

It was true. They weren’t the only one who got caught in the toxic cloud, but the others seemed fine.

„And how do you want to help me, then? It’s clearly something that’s only troubling me- so don’t worry, I will be fine, sooner or later.“

 

„But I think I found the solo...solu... answer for this, we just have to get to my workshop to fix it.“

 

Bloodhounds posture relaxed. He seemed eager to help and it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. They gave Elliott a nod and extended their hand towards him.

„Lead the way then, felagi.“ and with amusement, Bloodhound watched how Mirage extended his hand towards theirs, clenching and unclenching his fist, not sure if he should take their hand and lead the way, until he gave up, swirled around himself and stormed off towards his workshop with his hands pressed to his sides, a faint blush and a rushed „Follow me“.

 

Whoa. His workshop was kind of messy, but it had a system that only he could read. It was filled with tech and tools and parts of his own gear to the brim, more or less categorised in boxes, but also new stuff that he had tried out. There was always something to improve or repair. He stormed immediately to his desk, searching for the right tools. Bloodhound closed the door behind them, and he was suddenly painfully aware that it was only them two- truly alone. No cameras, no fans, no other legends.

 

„So, I, uh, I‘ve been thinking“ he tried to explain „what was different about you that made you the only one coughing and the rest of us not, and yeah, you’re the only one next to Caustic who wears a mask“

Bloodhound hummed in agreement.

„Well Caustic isn’t pron... prou... affected by his own gas because he has all kinds of filters installed, whatever he needs to protect himself from, and I don’t think he gave you the same treatment even though you two are close.“

„We’re not.“

„Not? Huh, it seems like that in the arena, you two together are kind of unstoppable... anyways what kind of filter did you install into your mask?“

„I don’t know“

„What?“ Mirage whipped around on his stool to face them. Bloodhound didn’t seem like the type to leave such things to chance- he thought that they knew their gear by heart and that everything had it’s purpose when they had chosen it. They just shrugged.

„Really?“

„I truly have no idea. I found it when I was young. Helped me with marsh gas. I think it broke a few years ago, but it still doing a good job at keeping most of the pollution out. And I can finally smell the prey better.“

Mirage couldn’t get over his shock. He knew that he must’ve looked ridiculous with his mouth hanging open, but the realisation that Bloodhound almost fought just as good in a cloud of toxins as when they didn’t breathe in chemicals terrified him. What in seven hells name were they???

„Ok, that‘s it, lose the mask right now.“

 

Bloodhound tensed immediately, feet slightly apart and hands extended, ready to fight. They didn’t want anyone to see their face. It was the last piece of themself that they didn’t give away to the public, and they would never do that. Their anonymity was sacred to them. _Elliott doesn’t want to see this._  And before they could protest and explain anything, Mirage had already intervened in his own panic.

 

„I don’t want to see your face! Well I mean yes I do, I’m curious as fuck, but I respect that you don’t want to show it! I will just turn away while I clean your mask and change the filters- it’s- it’s probably contaminated with the gas leftovers and that’s what caused your coughing.“

Mirage looked hopefully at Bloodhound, face showing genuine concern and a silent beg. His eyes suddenly widened a bit and he started to tear his scarf down in a hectic manner, extending the clothing piece towards Bloodhound.

„You can cover your face with this while I work, but only if you‘d like to!“

 

After a heartbeat or two Bloodhound made two measured steps towards Mirage, took the scarf, put their hands on his shoulders and turned him around on his seat. Mirage could hear his blood rushing in his ears.

 

„Just tell me exactly what you‘re doing and when you’re finished. And don’t turn around, please.“

 

Mirage managed just to nod, then he heard how Bloodhound opened some clasps, the rustle of fabric and the clinking noise of the decorations of their helmet. He heard a content sigh of Bloodhound who enjoyed to breath freely, as they put their mask with all its extends on the table.

 

With stiff fingers and a shaky voice he started to work on the mask. Mirage explained what kind of tools he used to clean the mask and how to change the filter. He explained them what kind of filter he installed and when they had to check it and eventually replace it. He fixed a few kinks here and there. His voice gained confidence with each spoken word and Bloodhound, at first a looming presence, quickly turned into a warm one and he had no doubt that they listened to every word he had said, attentive eyes following each of his movements. It was nice.

 

“...aaaaaaand done. That’s it.”

He just had assembled everything back together and cleaned the few particles of dust away when Bloodhounds hand extended towards their gear while the other rested on his shoulder. They were close enough to him to feel their body heat. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, something he was sure Bloodhound could hear, but they just grabbed the mask and the hand on his shoulder disappeared. Mirage waited for the noises of Bloodhound putting their mask back on, the rustle of fabric and clinking of pearls, but instead he felt a small breath next to his ear.

 

“Thank you very much, Elliott” the low, unfiltered voice of Bloodhound in their foreign singing accent shook him to his core and made him stifle his breath. He could feel how the hair on his neck and arms rose, body covered in goosebumps. He suppressed a shiver- this was way too intense for his liking but at the same time, he loved it.

 

“N-no problem, any-“ he turned around to find himself in his empty workshop, door opened “-time.” he huffed.

 

“You can always come back if you need help. You’re always welcomed here. ” he added with a small smile and he was sure that Bloodhound heard him, no matter how far away they were.

 

They heard him.

 

 

 

 

And they took his scarf, as Mirage realised a few hours later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bloodhound flees from their feelings, but apparently, their feelings are as good at tracking as they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hi there! this chapter was actually finished for a while, but i wasn’t completely satisfied with the characterisation of bloodhound, so yeah, i changed things a bit up. enjoy! more chapters are on the way!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. 

Bloodhound fumbled with their mask, trying to get their hair back into the helmet, adjusting the straps and clasps, while they hurried away from the workshop. 

They fled. 

They fled from Elliott. 

He was too risky. Around him they relaxed too easily, let their guard down too fast. It was easy to forget around him because underneath the mask that he put up for the games he was actually a friendly and caring person. No one else had noticed them struggling with their coughing, and even if someone had, no one except Elliott had acted upon it, not to mention that he wanted to help them and not use it to his advantage. 

They weren’t ready for this. Letting someone get close to them again was something they knew would happen sooner or later, they weren’t a fool. No one can run from feelings, not even they. It was just surprising. Caught them off guard.   
Bloodhound went back to the prep room, where others changed and waited for the next game. There were still a few of the other contestants, like Pathfinder, who just waved at them. They just grabbed their bag with spare clothes and disappeared again. After a while the managed to find an empty changing room, and after scanning the surroundings to make sure no one followed them, they slipped inside. 

Bloodhound sighted. Running away was an immature reaction and they suddenly felt exhausted. When they started to undress themself to change into civilian clothes they caught Elliott‘s scent, the one that they recognised from the scarf and realised that they had stolen it- well, more like kidnapped- and that it was too late to return. They could of course try and slip it back to him, but the risk being caught or noticed was too high, so they would have to keep it until the next game. 

Bloodhound dragged their hands over their face with a groan. They felt like they were a teenager again, not knowing how to deal with feelings of affection and they were way past that. Or rather should be. 

They started to unwrap the clothing piece from their neck, shook it out and folded it neatly, placing it on top of their own gear, which was rather thrown loveless into their bag. Time to go home. 

Putting up the hood of their jacket it was easy to exit the building without further notice of others. Their bag was a standard one- half of the population owned the same model- and their clothes were all dark, different shades of black. The building they lived in was a huge, run down complex of rooms, usually filled to the brim with families sharing one space, while each floor had to share kitchen and showers.   
Not the luxury you would expect for someone who won the Apex three times in a row, but a bigger, more expensive place would mean more attention, while here no one cared if there was another new face in the building or if someone didn’t return for several days. Also, they allowed themselves some luxuries, like a mini fridge, a microwave and a portable cooking field. Their room had one sink in which they did their dishes and some grooming, so they pretty much just had to share the shower every now and then, which was remarkably clean if you ignored the few mushrooms (actual mushrooms, not mold)(but also some mold) that occasionally grew in there. 

Bloodhound turned the key to their room and slipped into the darkness. They didn’t bother to open the blinds they left closed the day before, but they ripped open the window to let some fresh air in. Grabbing their shower stuff, they returned to the hallway. The house was full of noises, but all muffled behind the doors.  
They were lucky again, finding the bath empty- and excited to wash the day off with burning hot water, which they did. 

When they returned to their room, they locked themself in and then made a beeline for the fridge, which was stuffed to the brim with take away food they ordered the day before the games. It was foolproof, no one would suspect them taking part in the Apex games, except binge watching every reportage, comments and pre-game footage like thousands of other fans did it. Returning home after the games and ordering tons of food? Not very, but kind of suspicious. 

Bloodhound stacked as much food as they could into their microwave to heat it up, and while the food turned it‘s circles, they grabbed a beer from the fridge, opening it with their teeth while they set up the TV and sought for the recording of the last game, letting themself fall on their bed.   
They skipped the beginning which was filled with rambles and statistics straight to the jumping and watched.

At some point, the microwave made a loud „Pling“ but Bloodhound didn’t move. 

As inpatient as they sometimes were, they skipped further to the point where they eliminated Mirage and what they saw was... well was something. Anything. Everything? They couldn’t really place it. Concern and worry played in Mirages face, but not because he was shot by them, but because he was actually worried for them. They didn’t see it in the arena, eyes squeezed shut while coughing, and as the cameras skipped to him waking up in the infirmary they saw more of that bloody concern in his eyes, then him grabbing for the nearest screen, then him checking up on them and falling back with a sigh of relief.

The live-comment section was running wild, filled with key-smashes, heart- emojis and heart-eye emojis and any other heart-shaped emoji things, exclamation points and so on. 

Bloodhound wasn’t hungry anymore. Their stomach was filled with all kind of emotions, and a big part of it was butterflies. In fact, it kind of felt like the live-comment section looked in this moment, overflowing with....stuff, while the realisation slowly sunk in. 

They actually liked Elliott.

They liked him before, but now they finally realised it. 

Falling face-front into their pillow, Bloodhound released a loud, agonising groan while they kicked their feet with glee. 

Allfather help.

 

 

They ended up eating all the food anyway, putting the leftovers aside for their ravens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought that bloodhound would be that kind of person who would be pretty good in touch with themself and their emotions, so figuring out that they have a thing for mirage would be quick and easy. but dealing with such things? nope.


End file.
